The Vigilantes of Corona
by Catterall
Summary: In the city of Corona, the streets are protected night-to-night by the lone figure who goes by the name of Flynn Rider. But when a girl with remarkable powers seeks to join him, they discover that they are on the cusp of a conspiracy far closer to home than they could have ever expected. Superhero AU.


**Welcome, welcome, one and all!**

 **What you are about to read is the companion piece (or 'spin-off') to my other story:** _ **The Hero of Arendelle City**_ **. If you have not read it and are interested, you can find it in the** _ **Frozen**_ **section. This story will follow the same basic idea, with the story of** _ **Tangled**_ **being rearranged into a superhero tale. It's unlikely to be completely faithful to the source material (but what AU is?) although I will do my best to keep in the major scenes.**

 **Additionally, it may be confusing for newcomers since Flynn and Rapunzel have already made an appearance in the universe of** _ **The Hero of Arendelle City**_ **, where a lot had already happened to them (and they've already met). I'll try to cover this in later chapters, but it may also be handy to read their first appearances: Flynn appeared in 'New Players' parts 1-6 (chapters 13-19), while Rapunzel was in a further six chapters for 'The Snowman' parts 1-6 (chapters 20-25).**

 **Anyway, enough from me. Hope you enjoy this story. Here we go…**

* * *

Corona was sometimes called the 'Starshine City', which was completely understandable to the tourists who would take up residence on the beach front outskirts of the largely southern metropolis during the summer months. To them, Corona was just the zenith of a modern paradise and encompassed the best of two ecosystems. On the east and south sides of the city, the streets were lined with palm trees and the beaches stretched without interruption for miles along the coastline; a setting which appealed to a terrific number of summertime visitors. In contrast, however, if one were to travel over to a valley to the north-west of Corona they would find a thick forest more befitting of a mid-west state, which was augmented further by the ruins of a few colonial forts.

The city itself was adept at meeting the needs of its seasonal visitors. Like any other urban hub, Corona possessed a number of shopping centres, museums, galleries and hotels, along with a stake in the film industry as the Spanish-Germanic influence in the architecture and the surrounding countryside made it ideal as a setting for TV series and movies. From investment in these amenities, the local government was able to boast a relatively strong economy for the summer months, while the industry provided by the national business of Sunbeam Media supported the city for the rest of the year.

Unfortunately, this strength of business was unable to prevent nature from impacting on the infrastructure of Corona. Like any other city in the southern states, Corona was prone to sporadic hurricanes of varying devastation. Indeed, while the metropolitan area endured there were a number of ruined houses on the fringes of the municipality which only remained standing because the local government had more or less abandoned them. The Coronan economy could only stretch so far, after all.

As a result of this, and owing to a particularly nasty hurricane a decade previously, there was a sizable proportion of the population which was at risk of being forced out of their homes with few measures to help them in the long term. Additionally, in light of the banking crisis, the class of people who were willing to resort to less-than-legal means of income had swelled. Worst of all, this mistake of social responsibility in Corona had allowed a ring of organised crime to gain a foothold in the city. One that could not be shaken off despite the efforts of the police.

Apart from its physical geography and the notably restrained presence of a criminal mastermind, there was one other reason why Corona was moderately famous. Almost every town could boast one famous individual, and to the chagrin of one Detective Inspector Maximus that one person for Corona was a man known as Flynn Rider.

To the citizens, he was a figure which seemed to tiptoe along the lines of morality. Everyone knew the story of when he had first appeared, and no one had been able to make their minds up over his ethical alignments since then. To those he had saved that night, he was a hero. To those who had heard his tale second-hand, he was a mad vigilante who indulged in pragmatic violence. Everything Flynn Rider had done since that first incident at the Museum of Corona merely maintained the uncertainty.

There was only one person who could perhaps claim to know who Flynn Rider really was behind his mask. They had met a single time, under the strangest of circumstances in a different city and had not seen each other since. Partly because she had no idea how to contact Flynn. More likely, it was due to the fact she was near impossible to find given she lived in an isolated tower outside of Corona.

* * *

The streets of central Corona had a seasonable chill to it, as the cool air filtered directly in from the ocean and clung to the pedestrians who hurried to their houses through the night. It seemed in the days of mid-December everyone focussed on getting home as soon as possible to prepare for the coming festivities, rather than drive out to the nearest mall in order to hunt down the last few remaining gifts for loved ones and perhaps a few passing acquaintances. Indeed, by nine o'clock the inner city suburban area was mostly vacant, despite it still being relatively warm outside when compared to states north of Corona. However, the people's intolerance for the slightest dip in the weather left the roads open for one of the many car chases citizens could expect in a year.

On this particular night, racing towards the forests through the maze of pavement and concrete, was a decidedly banged up truck which was far too conspicuous for the getaway it was trying to achieve. Evidently the steering and traction of the tyres had long since lost their factory standards as the driver had to swerve from side-to-side in order to keep a relatively straight line. Of course, this pedestrian endangering tactic may have just as easily been a measure to try and evade the non-existent gunfire of the three sleek police cruisers tailing it. All three had their sirens blaring, while the lead vehicle employed the use of a megaphone.

"This is Detective Inspector Maximus!" The passenger of the car bellowed, loud enough for the old women living two streets over to hear without the need for their ear trumpets. "Pull over now or we will be forced to take extreme measures!"

The fleeing driver did not heed the inspector's warning, and just carried on slipping and sliding down the road at a speed the police could easily overtake, although such a manoeuvre would be impossible in the confines of the street. Limitations such as this aggravated Maximus to no end, leasing him to lash out at the dashboard in frustration before picking up the microphone for the radio.

"Bank robber escaping straight down Westward Drive towards the highway, repeat; Westward towards the highway," Maximus grunted like a straining racehorse. "Request a road block at the intersection of Franklin Avenue. Road block at Franklin, over."

"I don't understand what he's playing at," The driver muttered, knowing full well that Maximus could hear him perfectly over the din of the sirens. "This guy just got on parole, and he's throwing it away like this?"

"He's panicking," Maximus explained, recognising the pattern of behaviour in the pursued. "He had the audacity to think we wouldn't catch up with him and now he's got nothing left up his sleeves. He'll be back in prison by breakfast."

A sudden crash of metal on glass directly in front of Maximus' face served to notify him that his estimation of events was off. There was still one trick the fleeing criminal could call upon and it appeared the said trick had just thrown a trashcan into the front of the car. As a result, the driver instinctively swerved to a halt in the belief something more than a dent had been dealt and unintentionally stopped the cruiser diagonally across the street; thus preventing the following cars from moving around them to continue the chase. Even at the lacking speed, the rusty red truck was able to chug away comfortably.

Maximus growled when he realised the error of the driver, and bellowed swift commands to resume the race as soon as possible. Anxiously, the driver restarted the car, pulling away and straightening in the road in a matter of a minute. The garbage can screeched against the tarmac as it was buffeted out the way, then it was propelled back onto the pavement when the following cars glanced off of it.

In the interim of this accidental halt, it had not escaped Maximus that a new player had entered into the game of cat and mouse. Even if the forces of momentum had caused him to avert his gaze as the car twisted around, this was not the first time there had been a mid-pursuit interruption. And, on every previous occasion, there had only been one common cause. Straining his eyes to see into the distance, Maximus was unsurprised and outraged to see the dimmed light of a motorcycle in the middle distance. It was only there for a second, since the interrupting party was somehow able to accelerate faster than a police cruiser.

"All cars, all cars. Rider has been spotted. Repeat: Rider has been spotted," Maximus grunted in determination. "He's heading in the same direction. Intercept at road block."

Flynn Rider. That annoying, disrespectful criminal who had been a thorn in the side of the police since the start of the decade. No matter how they searched, once Rider was out of sight he would remain that way until he chose otherwise. But not this time. Maximus was certain they had Rider this time, since the man had sped off without learning there was a stinger ready and waiting across the road ahead of him. Soon enough he would be deposited into the hands of the police.

Expecting all the available officers to now join the hunt, Maximus urged the driver on without paying much attention to the radio. If he had listened he would have heard the chokes of pain and gasps of blows as two police officers were taken out by an unseen force. Instead, the inspector chastised his companion to increase his haste and they were sailing along the roads towards the expected point of the road block way ahead of the following cars.

In no time the rows of houses diminished into roadside foliage, which descended down the side of the ridge the road ran down. The lines of streetlights abruptly concluded at the city limits and the only source of illumination became the steady trickle of cars on the highway which stretched out across the horizon like as an ignored beacon of pollution. Any moment now Maximus would find both the bank robber and Rider stranded without a chance for escape, unless they wished to chance running into the middle of nowhere when more police cruisers were on their way.

However, as they approached the point where Maximus hoped to see the already captured thieves he was struck by the sudden realisation that there was nothing set up. He couldn't see the headlights of the two police cars that should have lit up upon capturing the criminals. He couldn't see the silhouettes of the ruined vehicles, nor the forms of the arrested culprits of a hundred or so crimes between them. Come to think of it, Maximus couldn't even see the outline of the cops who were meant to be waiting.

Yet he could see the outlines of the cars sneak up out of the darkness, and the flash of a single brake light (which would naturally belong to a motorbike) thirty meters ahead of him.

With a sudden juddering of the tyres, all became blindingly obvious. The driver, having also not been able to spot these landmarks, had simply carried on speeding down the road in determination to stop the separate cases. However, it turned everything they had expected to see on approach was indeed there. Particularly the road stinger which had now shredded all four of their tyres and was currently doing the same to their back up.

Once the screeching of metal on tarmac had stopped and the cruiser had completely halted, Maximus burst out of his seat and onto the empty road. Reaching for his torch, he illuminated a single spear of the fading evening and searched in the brush until he found what he was looking for. Revealed by the powerful yellow light were two police officers sitting upright in one car at the roadside, both unconscious but obviously alive. There had consistently been only one count of murder attributed to Flynn Rider.

Evidently, Rider had been able to overtake the subject of the chase, a natural ally of his, and find the road block as it was being set up. The two officers had not been a match for him, as Maximus observed they were relatively new to CCPD, allowing Rider to retract the stinger until his friend had passed through but put it back out to prevent anyone following them.

Maximus internally cursed himself for not anticipating such trickery. This was the kind of mistake a rookie should make with Flynn Rider, not someone who had been on his case so long.

"Are they alright?" The driver asked, spotting the two insentient bodies.

"They're fine," Maximus hissed, marching to the remaining vacant but operable car and diving into the driver's seat. "Tell the other cars to avoid this stretch of road, but head towards Windfall Parks. That's where the robber will go. I'd bet my mother's head on it."

Driven by his frenzy for justice, Maximus sped off without another word with the sirens on. As soon as he found the freeway his own was blaring to get several other vehicles going a smidge too slowly out of the way. If he squinted, glaring into the darkness, he could just make out the taillights of his targets. He had found them.

* * *

Windfall Parks had been a vibrant community up until a year ago. Since it was only built in the middle of the previous decade the housing was cost effective, spacious and gave many tourists a second home closer to the woods than the city. The city government had poured millions into making the small collection of suburbs as appealing as possible, but had overlooked one small problem with the intended market. 'Windfall' was perhaps the most fitting name, as a hurricane had passed through the area around Christmastime the previous year and wrecked all the vacant houses. It was very hard for the owners to board up the windows when they lived outside the state.

As a result, the site of roughly one hundred houses (taking the fact that many of them were now halved in size into account) was more or less empty of occupants. Windfall was yet to have the wonders of urban regeneration applied to it, since the city planners had put the matter on their agenda but had pretty much forgotten the place existed. The houses were hidden from the sight of the freeway and the only people living nearby occupied the old fort which had been refurbished by private funds. No one really cared anymore.

However, there was at least one dilapidated husk of a building which was still in use, having been adopted by the petty-thief-turned-bank-robber who swung unsteadily into the drive way. The thief knew that it was not just the police who were now after him, and so wasted no time in sneaking into the splintered, dirty interior with its floor littered by broken debris. The night was clear and the moon was full in the sky, so it was not very difficult to see where he was going while he listened in the dimness for the tell-tale signs of his second problem of the night. But no motors echoed through the calm countryside. He began to feel slightly more secure as he ascended to the broken mezzanine.

In this particular house the damage had been such that the banisters were almost completely demolished, while large chunks of plaster and floorboards had been blasted from their fastenings. Even parts of the garage had been exposed by this destruction, and from the upstairs landing it was possible to survey the entire ground floor with all its entrances. As a precaution, the robber had set up a pile of mattresses at various locations to allow for a quite getaway without unnecessarily hurting himself.

There were no chances of Flynn Rider being able to surprise him again.

Heaving a sigh of relief, the robber hid the stolen loot in the nearest cupboard before drawing his attention to the cracked mirror which he had put back up in the master bedroom. As people go, he was not the prettiest. He was not even remotely close to looking handsome. His nose and overbite were large, teeth crooked and hair dirty with grease. It had been days since he was last able to have a shower, as a result he smelt reminiscent of a pig's bed and his skin had the appeal of such. One particular spot was even oozing something unpleasant, although he was unable to afford a doctor. A good doctor, anyway. There were a million other problems he might be able to big out about himself.

But now there was some hope. After tonight's daring escapade and the intervention of a certain someone, he would now be able to escape over the border and into Central America. Surely there was a place where he could find good company and not be abhorred for his looks. Alternatively, he could just buy some friends, given this medium amount of money would be worth far more in some countries. Yes, all looked bright now.

He was just beginning to wind down and make the preparations for tomorrow when he heard a steady _creak_. Quick as a flash, he was at the edge of the mezzanine and scanning the floor for any intruders. Even in the steady gloom, he could see that no one had entered. But there it was again.

 _Krrk_. A pause. _Krrk_. It sounded disconcertingly like it was getting closer, but the robber couldn't understand until he turned around to face the window.

Silhouetted against the moon, crouched on the fragile windowsill, was a demon of a figure. There wasn't much that could be identified by this image, as the fabric hid the majority of his body. But at the top of his head were two ear-like points and the robber could tell that the eyes were staring directly into his.

"Wh-who are you?" The robber asked once he had gathered his breath. "You're not the usual one."

The faceless shape quivered slightly, almost as if he were laughing

"Sometimes people deserve more," The figure said in a voice which sounded as if this man had smoked every day of his life. "I'm the hero Corona deserves, but not the one it needs right now. They hunt me, because I can take it. I'm the silent guardian. A watchful protector."

This introduction was vaguely familiar, although the robber couldn't place the source of these words for the life of him. He was too worried that some lunatic was within an arm's reach of him and could beat him senseless before leaving him to Inspector Maximus. Right now, he really wished he had brought his gun with him from the bank.

"Yeah… But who are you?" The robber asked again, taking a careful step back.

The figure dropped to the floor, before rising to his full height. He stood just less than six feet tall, but this was all the robber could ascertain as the cape still shrouded the outline of this man's form.

"I'm Batman." The figure rasped, enjoying the robber's squeal of fear then whine of confusion before dropping a torch to the floor and lighting much of the room.

As it turned out, the figure who had climbed in through the window was most definitely not Batman. The cape, in reality, was nothing more than a curtain most likely salvaged from another house. His fake bat ears were really just part of a Hallowe'en cat costume. Both were quickly discarded to reveal who the imitator really was.

Standing instead in a dark blue waistcoat and a white labourer's shirt, as well as light brown trousers and leather riding boots was none other than Flynn Rider. As ever, his face was partially disguised by a black domino mask and he smiling smugly as if he were the single most hilarious person in the world.

"Nah, it's just me, Flynn," He said, dropping a few more small torches around the floor to illuminate the cavernous interior. "How's it going, Big Nose?"

The man unfairly dubbed 'Big Nose' took offence to the name with a huff of indignation, followed by the timid response of: "My name is Joh-…"

"Yeah, I don't care _that_ much," Flynn interrupted, circling around Big Nose and inspecting the surroundings. "Your goitre looks better, though. That the prison doctor?"

"He said I needed more iodine, although I haven't had a chance to get it treated recently." Big Nose revealed as if they were old friends. Which, in fairness, they sort of were. They had certainly been aware of each other for long time.

"You know iodine is, like, _really_ easy to find," Flynn commented, tapping on a cabinet door before shaking his head and moving on. "It's in seafood. Just eat more fish."

"I don't like fish." Big Nose commented childishly, becoming nervous as Flynn neared the cupboard where his takings for the night were hidden. He did not want to give anything away.

"Well there's your problem," Flynn was now studying a chest of drawers beside the cupboard, blissfully unaware but getting closer all the time. "Just get over yourself. Put up with it. Even dairy products are good for it."

"I'm lactose intolerant."

"My God. You're just a walking disaster aren't you?" Flynn questioned, facing Big Nose dead on as he settled a hand on the doorknob of the cupboard. Without inspecting it first, he yanked the brittle wood away from the wall and watched as the sack of money slumped to the floor. "Now _this_ is what I wanted to talk to you about. How do you expect to stay on parole when you go and steal twenty-thousand dollars armed with a revolver? I'm surprised you even got past bank security."

Big Nose withheld from responding straight away. He was too preoccupied by the numerous lights which illuminated the upper floor of this abandoned house like a Christmas tree. Should anyone else follow them then there would be no doubt in whether or not they would be found.

"C'mon, Nosey," Flynn encouraged, picking up the sack and placing it more evenly in the middle of the floor. "If you want to remain free, you'll have to give this back. Even then, there might be trial. But if we act quickly enough we can forge enough evidence to get you off scot-free."

"Parole _is not_ freedom," Big Nose argued, running a bony hand through his filthy hair worriedly and lunging for the sack. Unfortunately for him, Flynn sidestepped into his path and held him back. "Please. You've seen how it works. The limits the parole places on me is not enough to live on, and I can't go anywhere else. I may as well break all the conditions before I leave."

Flynn gave this statement some thought, during which time he did not release Big Nose. Instead, he studied the thief's expression.

"I get why you have to leave," He said, at last. "But you still have to get rid of that stolen money. They're just going to track you."

"No!" Big Nose yelled, grabbling for Flynn's waistcoat lapel. "I have it all planned out! I can be out of the country by tomorrow morning! Just get them off my tail for a while!"

Sadly, Flynn shook his head. "I can't do that," He reported in a voice which was half-way to being kind. "There are more people to distract than Chief Maximus."

In exasperated anger, Big Nose abruptly released Flynn's lapel and sent a glancing blow into his stomach. The strike was cushioned by the strange material of the waistcoat, but it was enough to make Flynn slide back and release Big Nose. With a strangled cry, Big Nose pounced over his desired loot to shunt the vigilante closer towards the edge of the landing. For the most part, it appeared Flynn was allowing Big Nose to take his frustration out, as both knew who was the most physically capable when it came to a fist fight.

Flynn balanced on the edge of the mezzanine, waiting for Big Nose to strike again. When he did, jumping forward in an attempt to send the taller man toppling down into the garage, the vigilante grappled for the lose fabric of a t-shirt before dragging his opponent down with him. For a brief moment the two struggled in mid-air, one rolling over the other, before they crashed onto the pile of old mattresses.

With a bursting kick to the hips, Flynn was able to flip Big Nose directly over his head. The bank robber fell heavily onto the filthy concrete, and the stun was enough to hold him back whilst the vigilante rolled back to his feet.

"Alright," Flynn said, panting from the exertion. His left elbow throbbed slightly from the impact, but he was in far better shape than his companion. "Are you ready to talk now?"

Rather than give a verbal answer, Big Nose latched onto Flynn's booted ankle and gave a weak tug. Taking momentary pity on him, Flynn hooked his hands under the poor man's arms and lifted him up so that they could speak face to face. However, it turned out this was a poor move as Big Nose snapped his forehead into the taller man's face. There was a small cracking noise, a dribble of blood and a grunt of pain as Flynn released Big Nose to tend to his wound.

On quick inspection he found that no bones were broken. It seemed Big Nose had aimed just too high and missed the majority of the fragile structure of Flynn's nose. Unfortunately, it was enough to annoy Flynn Rider more than the situation already had, so he retaliated with a harsh backhand before weaving an arm around Big Nose's neck and holding his shoulder in the opposing hand.

Luckily for Big Nose, it was at that moment that the front door was loudly smashed to pieces and someone else entered the front room. Both Flynn and Big Nose froze for the few seconds it took them to remember they were still hidden by a relatively intact wall. In that time, the newcomer called out into the dark space and alerted them to the fact that this was the last person either of them wanted to see. Or, more accurately, hear.

"Freeze!" Detective Inspector Maximus yelled, with an audible _clicking_ to signify the safety of his gun being turned off. "I know you're in here!"

It was apparent to Flynn that Maximus would quickly figure out neither of them were in the main body of the building, seeing as he could view the entire upper floor from the front door. Logically and correctly, that would leave the garage. This meant that he either had to find a way out for both him and Big Nose, or a viable hiding spot which could also produce an advantage against the giant Flynn mockingly referred to as 'Chief'. Fortunately, the answer was more or less in front of him, as he had quickly come to this conclusion when he considered the location of the building.

As was becoming more popular, due to the sense it involved, the particular house Big Nose had chosen for a base was equipped with a hurricane shelter installed into the garage floor. Thanks to this, it was a simple matter of kicking the floor-level cover open before dragging Big Nose into the cramped space with him. Flynn barely had time to quietly slide the cover back into place again before Maximus burst into the garage; only to find the space similarly vacant.

"I don't understand you." Big Nose quietly spat at Flynn once he had digested the rapid development, but he was quickly cut off when his contester clamped a hand over his mouth.

"You can't hide!" Maximus continued declaring, even though he was bewildered by the emptiness and was privately questioning whether he had been right or not. "I have back up on the way! Your ass is mine, Rider!"

Almost directly underneath Maximus, Big Nose watched sceptically as Flynn retracted his hand. The Vigilante was watching the shallow ceiling above his head with an expression which almost touched upon fear. It was no secret that the Inspector had managed to have a large reward collected for anyone who could provide information leading to Flynn Rider's arrest. Big Nose seriously considered giving their position away for a few moments, wondering if some of the reward might be sent his way. Of course, Big Nose quickly remembered that he was a convicted felon who had broken parole literally only an hour previously. It was unlikely the notoriously law-observant Maximus would say anything amiable to him.

"First of all you try to turn me in, then you try to strangle me," Big Nose listed off in a whisper. "Now you're hiding me from the man who wants to arrest me. What the hell is going on?"

"Okay," Flynn whispered back impatiently, his face livid but his motions controlled. "You didn't let me finish before. I want you to return the money, but I'm not turning you in."

Big Nose did a double take as he watched the roof nervously, not believing what he was hearing.

"What?" Big Nose deadpanned.

"Listen, I can get you a start-up fund and help you skip town," Flynn explained, pressing his fingertips against the metal panel which would be their only escape route. "But you've got to hand over the money you stole first. Then again, if you don't want to do that, I guess I'll just leave you here and get away by myself. I'm sure they have a very comfortable cell for you."

These last two sentences were not necessary to draw out the right answer from Big Nose. It did not take a gifted negotiator to see that Flynn was trying to meet him half-way with the issue, and based on what he knew about Flynn Rider's activities this solution would not present the flaws his original plan held. This way, Big Nose would not have to pay off debts from criminal organisations for the forgeries he needed, or be remembered as a wanted criminal. Even in the worst case scenario, he could just pin it all on Flynn and get out relatively unscathed.

Flynn understood the silence as an agreement to follow his instructions, so he leant in further to allow Big Nose to hear him clearly.

"Okay, I'm going distract Chief Maximus. I'll keep him looking the other way while you go out the front door," He described, running his fingers lightly across the metal ceiling panel. "Then you're going to meet me outside the Sunbeam building in two hours. After that, you're free to go wherever you wish, just as long as you don't come back to this city."

The last comment sounded more like a threat than anything else, and certainly one Big Nose would not challenge on his life. Among the few facts and snippets of stories that could be pulled together about Flynn Rider, everyone knew how the first case covered in the media ended. It was for that reason alone the lower classes of criminals feared crossing him. Especially if he was also willing to offer them with a way out.

"Deal," Big Nose spluttered, feeling a rise in the tension as he prepared himself to run at the first convenience. "But how are you going to distract Maximus?"

Flynn held up one finger, listening intently to the carefully treading feet above them. During the course of their conversation it could be assumed that Maximus had slowly and methodically searched the surroundings with great care without yet noticing the camouflaged metal plate in the middle of the floor. Gradually, both the occupants of the shelter heard the dull footsteps progress over their heads. And then Maximus trod on the entrance panel, making the metal dip on its runners slightly.

With an explosion of energy, Flynn yanked the plate open and leapt through the space. He had calculated the manoeuvre in such a way that it threw Maximus off balance, as his stance was suddenly shortened, which allowed the inspector to be knocked over fairly easily. As Maximus fell, Flynn dropped to his knees and pressed his foe's head into the ground so that they were both staring in the same direction. Then, with a knee digging into Maximus' pelvis and his arms bent back uncomfortably, Flynn pinned him there.

"Rider!" Maximus seethed, struggling against the weight of the thorn in his side. "Get off me!"

"So you can arrest me? God, Max. Think about it," Flynn jibed, looking over his shoulder and nodding for Big Nose to make his escape. "I mean don't get me wrong, I love our little chats. We haven't had one in ages. But you never seem to listen to _my_ side of the story."

"I _know_ your side of the story!" The Inspector raged, well aware his primary target for tonight was escaping. "You're a thug! You're a murderer! And you're obstructing the course of justice!"

In the other room, the door slammed shut and was quickly followed by the sound of an old engine starting. Flynn held Maximus against the floor, despite the unrelenting struggle, until the unhealthy chugging noise disappeared into the night. Once certain that Big Nose was safely away, Flynn patted down the inspector's pockets until he found a pair of handcuffs. With a bit of wrestling and cursing on both sides, Maximus was chained to the handle of the shelter's entrance just as more police sirens became audible in the distance.

"Well, it was nice seeing you _Chief_ ," Flynn commented, lunging back before Maximus could grab him. "But I'd really better get going before you're friends arrive. You'll find the stolen cash upstairs and maybe some of your dignity. Who knows?"

Before Maximus could retort with his standard bellows of anger and promises to make sure the vigilante saw a prison cell, Flynn Rider jumped out of a shattered window and managed to evade the cops for another night.

* * *

Just before ten-fifteen, Flynn dropped down the side of the Sunbeam Media office into a side alley and watched the few December stragglers meander home aimlessly. Towards the coast, the thumping of club music and the collective shrieks of partying echoed obnoxiously. The Christmas period had barely started, yet it already sounded like the disco-enthusiastic people in their teens and twenties were prepared to see in the New Year. Of course, Flynn also knew that it was also a good spot for muggers, murderers and all kinds of perverts to strike. Once he was done with this, the clubs would be his next stop.

Sadly, saving people near or in clubs had a nasty side effect of reminding him of _her._ And he just couldn't allow anyone to get too mixed up in his affairs. He'd always known it, but that particular experience had just reinforced that tenet of his life.

When the clock struck the quarter hour, the form of Big Nose emerged from the shadows across the street and wandered semi-casually to stand just in front of the building's steps. Flicking up the baggy hood he had hastily picked up from his lair, Flynn strode confidently to meet the nervously shaking form and tapped him on the shoulder. It was secretly humorous to watch a man who had braved prison jumps in shock.

"Oh, it's you." Big Nose needlessly pointed out. Flynn knew who he was, and did not need a near-total stranger telling him.

"Your name is now Derek Johansson," Flynn abruptly started, holding out a scrap of paper folded into a tight wad. "On this you'll find an account number, social security, date of birth. Enough to make Derek exist. It's not much, but it'll get you started."

It took a moment for Big Nose to comprehend what he was being given. Once he had absorbed the news, however, he wasted no time in snatching the paper from Flynn and practically grovelling at his feet in gratitude. Should anyone pass by now, their entire cover could be blown.

"Alright, yeah, you're welcome," Flynn said in annoyance. "Now get up."

"But how did you do this?" Big Nose asked, unfolding the scraps and staring at the new identity in awe.

"Just some software I confiscated from the Stabbingtons," Flynn stated like it was nothing, even though he knew Big Nose would probably fear the brothers more than him. "And I took about twenty dollars from Gates and Trump, and anyone else who's rich. So don't say anything to anyone."

"I won't." A promise if ever there was one.

"Good, now get out here." Flynn harshly instructed, staying just long enough to watch Big Nose run away and hopefully out of his life forever.

Now that this job was finished with, Flynn found himself at a loose end. Whereas he had promised himself he would patrol the clubs for a few hours, a undeniable fatigue washed in over him. He felt this was due. For the last week and a half, he had pulled all-nighters and then slept for a few hours after his day job was over. Surely he could have a night off.

But despite all this, Flynn found himself marching towards the clubs. Who knew? Maybe there wouldn't be much going on and he could have an early night after all.

* * *

"Get up." A gruff voice instructed through a blissful fog of sleep, just as a sharp object dragged him up and off the bed.

Eugene Fitzherbert woke up just as he hit the wooden floor of the small rented bedroom in an old Coronan inn, his startled cry choked by the pile of dust which arose around him. For a few moments he tried to find some warm covers from the blankets which had fallen with him, before he gave up, resigned himself to the cold morning air pouring in through the open window, and sat up to face his landlord.

Albert Hooke, or Hookhand due to the terrifying prosthetic where his right hand should be, stared down at Eugene. It was safe to say he was unimpressed by his employee's performance and was expecting a full explanation as soon as possible. Unfortunately, Eugene was the one person who never gave a reasonable account for why he overslept so much, and could get away with it since he was, coincidentally, the only person who would work the dayshift as the Snuggly Duckling. Besides, lots of people overslept. It was just one of those normal habits.

However, Eugene _could_ tell Hooke the truth. But that would involve revealing that Flynn Rider operated out of his bar and then recounting the stories of all the people he had had to beat up last night. This list included two drug-dealers, a potential homicide, and one case of an abusive relationship. And Eugene didn't want to go into _that_ story.

"Did you meet a girl last night?" Hooke asked, this being the reason Eugene gave half the time.

"No, believe it or not I went clubbing." Eugene grumpily offered, draping the thin blankets over his shoulders and getting to his feet.

"Yeah right, work at a bar all day and then relax by going to a different one?" Hooke scoffed, before jabbing his fake hand at Eugene's tiny bedside table. "Or did it have something to do with this mysterious number you've kept since your holiday?"

"Leave that!" Eugene shrilly instructed, snatching the note paper from beneath the plastic fingers and hiding it in a drawer. "That's my friend's number. But I'm not sure when she's coming to Corona, if ever," He rounded on his employer tiredly and somewhat frustrated. "Don't you have deadbeats to clear out?"

"What do you think I'm doing?" Hooke sneered, gesturing towards the narrow staircase with his remaining hand. "It's your shift. Last night's drunks are your problem now."

Bitterly, Eugene internally remarked on the fact he was always dealing with drunks one way or another, but he watched impassively as Hooke descended the stairs and left him to get dressed.

For a moment before he left his bedroom, Eugene considered retrieving the phone number from his bedside and giving her a call. After all, it had been three months. Surely she'd be back by now, of not for a while. And what could the damage be? Accidentally remind her what is was like to be taken hostage and shot?

On second thoughts, Eugene turned away from his room hurriedly. Calling one Miss Engel could wait for another day.

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